“They know if these records get out, their government funding is gone.”

I opened the folder under the dim dome light of the car.

The top sheet was a shipping log detailing dual-use electronic components.

The destination listed was a shell company in Panama, but the ultimate consignee was blocked out.

Underneath the destination, Gregory’s personal signature sat next to a state seal.

“This is it,” Vance said from the backseat, leaning forward to look over my shoulder.

“These are the original manifests for the guidance systems.”

“He was billing the Pentagon for grade-A military components but shipping cheaper civilian alternatives,” I said.

“And keeping the difference,” Vance added.

Eleanor looked at the signature on the page, her eyes hollow.

“I recognized that company name,” she said softly.

“Gregory used to receive mail from them at the house, years ago.”

“Did you know?” I asked her, turning to look at her face.

“Not about this,” she said, shaking her head.

“He told me it was just overseas real estate.”

“We can’t take this to the local precinct,” I said, closing the folder.